


When Life Implodes

by Emmilyne



Series: Our Lives As Heroes [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Grave, Grief/Mourning, Speculation, child fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-11 13:23:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5628115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmilyne/pseuds/Emmilyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It had imploded.  Of course, it had.  And it had destroyed everything in its path.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Now Samantha was in a grave... </i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>His son was motherless.  Terrified.  Betrayed.  Hunted. </i></p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>And Felicity had discovered everything in the worst possible way.</i><br/> <br/>A story of love, forgiveness, and family in the wake of tragedy, told in three parts.  Where secrets are revealed the way everything happens in their world, amidst bullets and arrows and death.  And the only way to fight it is with the light.</p>
<p> <img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When the Life You Know...

**Author's Note:**

> There is a lot of my Head Canon as to why Oliver kept the William secret. I don’t think I’ve seen it written in quite this way elsewhere. so I hope it resonates and comes off as a fresh idea after so many great fics about this subject. Enjoy.

Oliver should have known.

 

Every time Oliver’d kept a secret, it blew up in his face.  Even if it was for the right reasons.  Even if it was carefully considered and all outcomes were measured, it _never_ worked out.  Not a _single_ time.  Why had he thought this time would be different? 

 

Oliver should have known.  Maybe on some level, he did.  Maybe he’d been waiting for this all along.  The implosion.

 

When he decided to keep his distance from his only child to preserve William’s chance of a happy, _normal_ life, away from the chaos of Oliver Queen’s existence and, more importantly, the danger that surrounded the Green Arrow and all its manifestations…

 

When Oliver kept secrets from the love of his life…from his son…his sister… from _everyone_ …

 

Oliver had a feeling of impending doom.  He should have listened to his gut.  He’d thought he was doing the right thing.  The noble thing.   He _thought_ that this way the only one who would get hurt was him.

 

But ignorance had never kept anyone safe in the past.

 

Why hadn't Oliver remembered that?   Maybe then, he would have listened to his instincts and not written off the feeling as self-delusion, an attempt to get what he wanted.

 

That was the horrible irony here.  Oliver had _wanted_ to tell everyone everything.  Especially Felicity.  Especially _William_.  But he'd thought that it was selfish.  So Oliver went the self-sacrificing mode.

 

Again, stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.  It had imploded.  Of course, it had.  And it had destroyed everything in its path.

 

Now Samantha was in a grave...

 

His son was motherless.  Terrified.  Betrayed.  _Hunted_.

 

And Felicity had discovered everything in the _worst_ possible way.

 

Samantha's death may not be Oliver's fault, but the disaster that was now his life _was_.  Felicity was never going to forgive him.  How the hell was he supposed to do this without her?   How was he supposed to keep William safe and _raise_ him if the only thing left was an empty shell? 

 

Oliver lingered at Samantha's grave long after Thea and John had bundled William off to go back to the house.  Felicity had wondered off, presumably to contemplate all the ways he had failed them all.  

 

But Oliver lingered.  And cried.  Cried alone, because he refused to do so in front of his son. 

 

He cried for Felicity.  For the promise of the life they had been building, that Oliver had betrayed.   He cried for his son, who had lost the only parent he'd ever known.  He cried for Samantha whose only sin was to use a cheap, expired condom one drunken night 10 years ago and who had come to a brutal end because of it. 

 

Oliver cried because he was lost and scared.  Because all the people he loved, loved more than life itself were a mile away in an old farmhouse and he had no idea if he could ever make _any_ of their worlds right again. 

 

But staying here wasn't helping.  Oliver needed to face them.  Needed to try to fix this. He needed to stop staring at his son’s mother’s grave like she was going to appear in front of him and give him the answers. 

 

He needed to go back to that cursed farmhouse and deal with his son and his fiancée…if she was still his fiancé after everything Oliver had done.  Gathering whatever strength he had left, he forced himself to get on his bike and make his way back to their temporary home.

 

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

 

 

Things could not have gone down in a worse way. 

 

Three days ago, the team had been gathered in the Liar, no different than any other night, when Barry turned up unannounced.   William and Samantha had been attacked.  Samantha was in the hospital and the Metas responsible were still at large, still hunting his boy.  It was bad.  They had to leave.  Immediately.  

 

Oliver's team had been baffled.  Felicity. Thea.  Digg.  Laurel. They all _knew_ there was something missing from the story they were given.  Something they didn't know.   Barry didn't pop in every time a kid was in danger in Central City.   But there was no time and it would have taken so much longer than the milliseconds Oliver had to even _begin_ to explain.

 

Not that it would have mattered.  It was too late.  Months too late to cushion this particular blow.  All Oliver could do at that point was try to save his son.  So, he did the only thing he could, he went with Barry.

 

Even that was too late.   Barry couldn’t have been gone from the hospital for ten full minutes.  But ten minutes was how long it took for everything to go to hell.  

 

Back in Central City, Oliver and Barry found Joe and Patty unconscious on the hospital room floor.  Samantha was dead.  William was gone.

 

At that point, secrets were the last thing Oliver was worried about.

 

Team Arrow, his fiancé included, took her jet.  They showed up in the middle of a show-down in Central City Park between Oliver, Team Flash, his son and three Metahumans.   Oliver was incredibly glad they arrived when they had, given that now one Meta was dead, two were in custody and William was unharmed.  But not before… _Christ_.

 

Even though they arrived in time to prevent disaster, it was _just_ in time for Oliver’s world to be blown to smithereens.   He just wished he had put an arrow in that Meta’s throat before the word vomit began.   If one thought villains only monologued in the movies, they’d be wrong. 

 

Oliver knew this was how Darhk planned it.  Knew that the secrets were supposed to destroy him more cleanly then the murder and the chaos.  And it probably would.

 

So, William learned that the man he had met only once was not only his dead-beat dad, but the Green Arrow.  And Felicity found out he had a nine-year-old son, that Oliver had known about for _months_ , right along with everyone else. 

 

Even Laurel.   She was the cherry on top.   Oliver hadn’t seen her since that night, which was completely understandable given that she was the one he was dating when William had been conceived.  The math wasn't hard to do.  Laurel had given him a disgusted and disappointed glare and disappeared.  Probably to see her mother, but it wasn’t something Oliver had the energy to worry about.

 

It was one of the worst, most terrifying moments of Oliver's life.  He had never felt more out of control.  _Ever_.  And then… _then_ he had to tell his son that his mother was dead.  Murdered.  

 

That was 48 hours ago.  Maybe a little more now. 

 

Everything that had happened since then was a blur.  Oliver felt numb.  Foggy.  And not much else. 

 

Oliver did remember sitting next to William, neither of them speaking, both of them staring aimlessly.    He remembered Thea trying to get them both to eat, Digg lecturing him on being an example.  He remembered Felicity on the computer endlessly, trying to find out anything and everything about Samantha Clayton.  Family.  Friends.  A _will_.  Anything to give them direction.  

 

Part of Oliver worried that this was Felicity trying to find someone else to take the boy.  Because _she_ didn't want him.  But Oliver hadn’t had time to ruminate on that thought.  It hadn't mattered in the end.   William had no one.  No one but Oliver.  

 

Samantha was an only child.  Her parents died in a car crash 18 months ago.  The four of them had been very close. God, what William had been through.  So much loss in such a young life.   It made Oliver wonder if the Queen name was cursed.   Not that he carried the Queen name.

 

But Oliver wanted him too.  _Christ_ , he wanted him to, as selfish as that was.  He had wanted it in a deep, dark, primal place inside him since the moment he'd known…no, since he _suspected_ William was his. 

 

Samantha and William did have friends who would have liked to come to the funeral, but the team had ultimately decided it wasn't safe, not for William and not for his friends, to have anyone outside their Arrow/Flash family there.  So, again, his son was offered no solace.

 

Despite everything Oliver had tried to do, everything he’s tried to protect him from, William had been thrust into the worst part of his world with no preparation. 

 

Oliver had no idea who made the funeral arrangements.   Certainly not him.  He hadn't said more than a few words to anyone.  Not to William and certainly not to Felicity, who seemed to be having a very difficult time meeting his eyes.    She was very kind to William and that was heartening, as was the ring still on her finger.  Oliver checked for it about a million times a day.

 

There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between him and Felicity to wait until after the funeral to figure everything out.  And the funeral was over.  Oliver's stay of execution done.  Decisions had to be made.  He couldn't avoid it any longer.  William, he had no one else. 

 

What would have happened if Oliver hadn't blundered into his life?  Would he have wound up in foster care?   The thought made Oliver physically ill.

 

When he finally made it to the farmhouse, the same one they had rented back in December when all of this started, Oliver found William staring blankly at the television while some cartoon played.  Thea and Digg sat with him, though the boy didn't seem to notice their presence. 

 

Felicity stood, leaning against the door jam, watching them, still in her black dress and coat, her eyes red and puffy behind her glasses.  Oliver reached for her first, needing her…needing…

 

Placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder, Oliver’s voice cracked, “Felicity?”

 

“Not here,” she whispered back, her eyes not meeting his.  Then Felicity turned and walked to the front door with long strides, leaving Oliver to follow. 

 

He spared a glance at son, who still hadn't moved, before following her out the door.  Oliver wracked his brain, trying to think of something… _anything_ to make Felicity understand.  And if not understand, then at least forgive. 

 

Last night, Oliver had come to bed after she was already asleep and laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of what to say.   In the end, he'd left before Felicity woke.  Then he went and stared at his son’s restless sleep, before, again, leaving without saying anything.

 

Oliver followed Felicity across the yard and abandoned horse fields, back by the old barn.  Until she finally turned to face him.  Christ, she was angry.  Rightfully so.

 

Swallowing, Oliver took a few steps more to a cluster of hay bales.  He removed his jacket and lay it over the hay, gesturing to Felicity to sit.

 

“Really?”  Felicity scoffed, incredulous, as she stood, one eyebrow raised, arms tightly crossed.  “Are you trying to earn points… by _what_?   Trying to be a gentleman?” 

 

“No, I…” Oliver sighed, running his hands through his hair.  “Felicity, if I knew what to do, what to say…I'd have done it already.”

 

“How about telling me the truth?”  The edge to Felicity voice made Oliver flinch.  “I know that's a novel concept, but I think I deserve that much.”  Her fingers flexed against her arms and she remained standing, her entire body rigid.  

 

“I know you deserve…so much more than _this_ ,” he muttered almost to himself.  Oliver focused on the ring on her finger.  While it was still there, there was still hope.  “Ok, I…” He did know where to start, he just didn't know how.  Scrubbing his face, Oliver forced himself to look her in the eye and say, “Before I start, I need to ask something of you.  I know I don't have the right, but I need to ask.”

 

Felicity gave him a grunt and an eye-roll, but there was a half-nod in there too.  Oliver had to remember how badly she was hurting as well.   And that was entirely his fault.

 

Closing his eyes, Oliver asked, “Can you…?  I need you to let me say… _everything_ before you start using your loud voice or arguing—”

 

“ _Oliver_ ,” Felicity gritted out, her temper already snapping.

 

“Not that I don't deserve… Look, when I'm done, feel free to scream and berate me and…it’s just… I want to tell you everything, what I was thinking, _why_ …but I don't think I'll be able to get it all out, unless…”   This was already going to hell.   Could he be doing a worse job?  “Can you please just listen to all of it first?   Before screaming or leaving or…. _please_ , just give me a chance to explain.”

 

Felicity just glared at him for long minutes and Oliver thought she was going to refuse, tell him it was too much to ask and leave.  But, finally, with a little growl from the back of her throat, she marched over and sat stiffly on his coat.

 

“This your last chance, Oliver Queen.  I swear to God, if you leave out one _solitary_ detail—”

 

“I won't I… _thank you_.”  Oliver knew everything was riding on this, that it truly was his only chance to…to keep his life worth living.  

 

If he was going to tell Felicity everything, then he had to start at the beginning.  Oliver could feel himself shaking as he started, “It was, uh…just over ten years ago now, when I was a real asshole.”

 

Felicity harrumphed, muttering, “Was?”

 

“Was even _more_ of an asshole.  I was dating Laurel and I was stupid, _so stupid_.  I met Samantha

 and we were really drunk and…6 weeks later she found me and told me she was pregnant.”

 

“You knew?” Felicity gasped.  “From the beginning?”  She couldn't quite stay quiet.  It was against her very nature.  And she looked like she was getting even more upset.

 

“Yeah, well,” Oliver laughed, an ugly crazy sound. “Kind of.  Let me finish.  Samantha told me.  I freaked out.  I told my mother.”  Little had he known what a mistake _that_ was. “But I…we…we hadn't decided what we were going to do about it…about the baby, not yet.  Then…then Samantha called me and told me she lost the baby.”

 

“She lost it?”  Felicity repeated, skeptical…or confused.  It was hard to tell which.  Maybe both.  The whole thing was insane.

 

“Well, obviously she hadn’t, but she told me she had.”  Oliver knew he was sounding like a deranged person.  “I didn't question her. I mean, why would she lie?  It would mean giving up the Queen fortune for her child, and besides, I…”  He closed his eyes again to confess, “I guess, I was relieved.  It was sad, but I don’t know.  Samantha and I didn't speak again.  After a while, I almost never even thought about it.  It was just another close call.  Doesn't everyone have pregnancy scares?”

 

Oliver looked to Felicity for confirmation, desperate for some small acknowledgement that maybe he hadn't been a total fuck up back then. 

 

Felicity nodded, her eyes sad and just a tiny bit sympathetic.   Oliver felt his chest unclench marginally.

 

“I saw Samantha again last year in Central City, but it was nothing.  A brief encounter with an old acquaintance, not worth mentioning.”  Oliver took a breath.  This was the part of the story where it all started to go to hell.  “But then, last December, I was with Barry at Jitters…you remember how we had to go ahead to confront Savage at the church?”

 

“I remember.”  Again with the sad tone.  As if Oliver needed something else to break his heart.  Felicity was holding her breath, he could tell.  She had known something was wrong the moment they saw each other again.

 

Oliver felt tears burn the back of his throat.  “I saw Samantha with this boy at Jitters and he was the right age and the right hair color and his eyes—”

 

“Why didn't you call me?” Felicity burst out, lurching to her feet.  “After _everything_ , why wouldn’t  you call me as soon as you suspected?”  Her energy seemed to dissipate as quickly as it came and Felicity collapsed back onto the bale, tears in her eyes.  “Sorry, I promised not to interrupt, but… _Oliver_.  Why?”

 

“I _know_.  You don't know how many times I wish I had,” Oliver insisted.  “I don't even know why I didn't…”  No, he had promised not to lie to her again.   He swallowed.  “That's a lie.  I do _know_.  Thought about it and I…this is really hard, Felicity.”

 

A tear slipped down her cheek and her lip trembled.  “Just say it.”  Felicity’s voice was just a low rasp.

 

He was such an asshole.  "Please.  I just need you to understand—”

 

“Just _say it!”_

Oliver flinched.  He collapsed onto the haystack next to her and closed his eyes.  “My first instinct was to tell you.” She grunted in disbelief, but he plowed on.  “It _was_.  The phone was in my hand.   Then I realized you were in the air and…by the time you weren't, I'd already had the conversation with you in my head a dozen times and I...” 

 

Purposefully, Oliver turned toward her, even daring to reach for Felicity's hand, but she flinched so he let his fall.

 

“Felicity, I…you need to understand the influence you have over me.  You are so passionate and intense and opinionated and _so_ much smarter than me.  A million times you have made me change everything I believed and come over to your way of thinking with just a few words—”

 

“That's not true—”

 

Oliver laughed, a rough hysterical sound.  “Oh, it is, sweetheart, it _is_.  And, good God it's saved me a hundred times over.  It's one of the things that I love most about you, the way you fight for what you believe in.  But, Felicity…”   This time when he grabbed for her hand, she let him take it.  “This time, I needed to figure out what _I_ thought about all this, how I felt.  I was confused enough without having your opinions cloud mine.  But, I planned to tell you.  I did.”

 

Felicity turned her head away.  Removing her hand from underneath Oliver’s, she croaked, “Tell me the rest.”  

 

Sitting back, Oliver blew out a breath.  “So…I  went to Samantha's house to ask her and she…she told me he wasn't mine.”

 

Felicity's eyes snapped back to his.  Then narrowed.

 

Oliver huffed out a laugh.  Felicity was rather predictable.  He could have mapped out her reactions to each piece of information to a T.  “Yeah…she…I didn’t really believe it either.  So I was able to get a hair sample and run a DNA test and once I knew for sure William was mine—”

 

“Poor kid,” Felicity muttered under her breath, looking away.   “All the liars in his family, doesn’t stand a chance.”

 

“See!” Oliver grunted.  “See!  This is what I knew you’d do.  You’d immediately get angry with Samantha…”

 

Felicity’s eyes flashed.

 

And Oliver flinched, the fight going out of him before it even really set in.  “I don’t want to argue.  Just…It’s just that as soon as I knew he was my son, I knew exactly what you were going to say.”

 

Immediately, Felicity was indignant, “I would _never_ begrudge you your son.  I wouldn’t be angry about a ten-year-old affair—”

 

“Know that!  I _know_.”  Oliver heaved to his feet, too restless to sit anymore.  “Even though, I was pretty sure you weren’t ready for kids, especially not a nine-year-old—”

 

“Oliver, I would—”

 

“Still, I _know_ you would have embraced him immediately.  I _know_ you would have loved him and… look, _that_ was the problem.”

 

Felicity reared back, her whole face scrunching up in confusion and disbelief.  “That makes no—”

 

“ _See_ , I knew what you would say.”  Oliver knew he was getting loud now, gesturing a little desperately as the words came faster in their need to escape his throat.  “You would immediately tell me that I needed to claim him.  You’d say that Samantha had no right to keep him from me and that I had rights too.   You’d say that I would be a good father and that William deserved to know me.  That your father abandoned you and I couldn’t do that to him—”

 

“And that’s a bad thing?”  Felicity looked so hurt.  Oliver really didn’t want to hurt her, not any more than he already had.

 

“No!  Yes…It’s just I could imagine you bursting into that house like an avenging angel or blackmailing Samantha with cyber ruin or—”

 

“Not if you asked me not to!”  There was the loud voice.  Felicity was on her feet now, too, tears again running down her face.

 

“I know.  I know…”  Oliver said more softly, his hands up in surrender.  “It’s not that I didn’t think you would hold back if I asked you to.  It was that I didn’t think I was ready to deal with the force of your…” he gestured helplessly to her, “… _passion_.”

 

Felicity closed her eyes and fell back to the hay stack with a sob.

 

Great.  This was going just about as badly as Oliver imagined it would.  He fell to his knees in front of her, grabbing her hands, “Felicity, you know that _I love you_ , that this doesn’t mean—”

 

Felicity pulled her hands away with a wild, desperate sounding laugh, holding them up.  “Don’t.  Just don’t.  Just… _Just_ finish your story.” 

 

She sounded broken and Oliver wanted to cry as well, but pushed on.  This seemed to definitely be one of those the only way out was through scenarios. 

 

“So, I told myself…” It was difficult to get the words out with all the emotions that were  choking him.  Oliver closed his eyes.  He couldn’t watch her and speak.  “I told myself that I needed to confront Samantha first, because I…because…Felicity, he looked really _happy_. William was really happy and normal and well adjusted.  Something I _never_ was.  And that was all something I could fuck up for him _so_ easily.”

 

“Oliver…”

 

He opened his eyes to see Felicity looking at him again and she looked less devastated, more empathetic.  It gave him the strength to go on.

 

“I bet you’d argue that point, if you weren’t so mad at me,” Oliver whispered, actually managing a smile.

 

“I...” a smile broke through Felicity’s tears and it was like seeing a glimmer of sun through the clouds.  “Probably.”

 

Oliver met her gaze and wanted to reach for her but…he just really needed her to forgive him.  “Felicity…back when I first found out Samantha was pregnant.”  He licked his lips and forced himself to maintain eye contact.  “I thought…I _wished_ …that she would chose to give the baby up for adoption.”

 

He watched Felicity carefully for reprimand, but her eyes were still understanding, so he kept going.  “I didn’t want her to get rid of or _lose_ the baby…” Great, there was the suffocating emotion again.  “But I thought that…I didn’t think either of us were ready for a child, I certainly knew I wasn’t, and I thought that if we found the baby a good family, who could give him a good life…well, was leaving William with Samantha so different.  I would have written away my rights to give him a chance ten years ago, what right did I have to barge in and destroy his happy home now?”

 

Oliver’s head fell forward and he stared at the damp grass, fighting tears.  When he felt a hand on his cheek, he jerked back up, his heart pounding.

 

“The difference,” Felicity murmured, “was that you weren’t given a choice.”  Turning his face, Oliver managed to press a kiss to her palm before she pulled away, saying, “And I don’t believe you would choose to give your son up for adoption as the man you are today.  You wouldn’t chose the easy way out.”

 

“No, I wouldn’t want to give him away.  And I wouldn’t choose the easy way out, but…maybe, I would choose the _safer_ way.”  Oliver pleaded with her to understand.

 

And it looked like Felicity did.  But then she asked quietly, “But, he wasn’t safe was he?”

 

It hit Oliver like a sledge hammer to the chest and he lurched back to his feet, pacing away.  “No, he wasn’t.  I fucked up everything.”  There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in it.

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Felicity called softly, making Oliver turn back to her.

 

“Yeah, it was,” Oliver chuckled self-deprecatingly.  “It’s ok.  It’s true, but I…I knew I would get off track.”  He paced back and sat back next to her, fixing his eyes off to the distance.  “So, the second time I confronted Samantha about William, she told me that my mother paid her a million dollars to lie to me and disappear.”

 

The noise out of Felicity’s mouth was half gasp/half growl and Oliver wasn’t sure if it was directed at his mother or Samantha.

 

“I _know_ , but Samantha showed me the check.  Uncashed.”  Oliver chanced a glance at Felicity and saw her surprise at that.  “She said that after what my mother did, she decided that she wanted to keep her child out of the Queen’s orbit, that she didn’t want him in my world.  She told me he was happy and well-adjusted and that she didn’t want—”

 

“ _Oliver_ —”

 

“She told me William couldn’t know I was his father.” Oliver knew he had to keep going or he would never finish.  “She told me if I wanted to know him at all, I wouldn’t tell anyone about him.”

 

“And that’s when you decided you weren’t going to tell me.”  The anger was back in Felicity’s voice.  “You decided to keep a promise to a woman you barely knew, who had been lying to you for a _decade_ , and, instead, decided to lie to _me_ , the woman you claim—”

 

“Don’t say it!” Oliver yelled, angry too now.  “Don’t say it!  Don’t accuse me of not loving you, because this was never about that.”  He took a deep breath, tempering his tone, “And I didn’t lie to you.”

 

“ _What_!?”

 

“It wasn’t a _lie_!  I told you there was a secret in Central City and that I planned to tell you later—”

 

“But you _didn’t_ —”

 

“No, I said it was over and it was!”

 

Felicity just glared at him in disbelief.   She seemed finally out of words.

 

“It _was_ , Felicity!  God help me, I hated _it_ , but it was.”  They were both back on their feet now.  Both using the loud voices Oliver had wanted to avoid.  “And it certainly didn’t have anything to do with a promise to Samantha.  You don’t think I figured out that I could tell her whatever I needed to to see William and then come home and tell you everything?  You don’t think I knew where my loyalty lies? Oh and case you’re wondering it was with you.  It _is_ with you.”

 

“Then why didn’t you, Oliver? Why didn’t you?!”

 

“Because I couldn’t tell you and do what I needed to do!”

 

“And what was that, Oliver!”

 

“If you’d let me finish…”   Oliver collapsed back onto the hay stack again, exhausted.  Why did he always end up yelling when he didn’t want to yell.

 

“Fine, so finish,” Felicity told him in a quieter, but still angry voice.  “Finish the longest goddamn story in the history of the universe.”

 

Oliver laughed.  Because despite it all, Felicity still made him laugh.  He really didn’t know what he would do if he lost her.  “I told her about you, Samantha.  I told her you were really important to me and that I didn’t want to lie to you.”

 

“But you did.”  Felicity’s voice was soft now.

 

“I told her your name and she said it was a nice name.  I said you were a nice person.  The best—”

 

“Oliver, is this important to the story?”  Felicity sounded as tired as Oliver felt.

 

“It is, because _you_ are an important part of the story,” Oliver insisted.

 

Felicity’s nose wrinkled like she might cry again and she murmured, “I can’t handle much more.”

 

“Ok.  Ok.  So, I…so, in that moment I would have promised Samantha anything for a chance to meet him.  To meet _my son_?  Do you understand that?”

 

“Yes,” Felicity whispered, a soft tearful confession.

 

“So, I promised Samantha the world, not having any idea if I was going to keep the promise or not  and I met my son…oh God, Felicity, he was wonderful.”

 

Felicity let out a sob.

 

“Don’t think for a moment that I didn’t want to share that with you—”

 

“Just keep going,” Felicity pleaded.

 

Oliver swallowed.  “William was wonderful and I…I spend an hour with him playing Flash and Captain Cold.  And I kept thinking that I just came from a fight with Vandal Savage, a 2000-year-old Immortal, and the worst villain in this kid’s life is a _plastic_ Captain Cold.  And Samantha...” he laughed, the sound coming out deranged as his head fell back.  “Samantha didn’t want William to be in _Oliver Queen’s_ world.  God, she had no fucking clue.”

 

“Oliver—”

 

He kept going talking right over her, looking her in the eye and pleading with her.  “Felicity, if we were still living in Ivytown, just you and me, I would have fought Samantha.  I would have called Laurel and asked what we…yes, _we_ , because I knew you would back me up, wouldn’t you?”

 

Felicity nodded, tears falling.

 

“Asked Laurel to file partial custody papers or… _something_.  But we didn’t… _don’t_ live in Ivytown.  We live in Star City.  The most _dangerous_ city in the country, worse than Gotham.  And I’m running for mayor of that City.  I’m a target for Darhk.  _You’re_ a target for Darhk.  And this was before he shot you.  Felicity, for Christ sake, Ra’s Al Gul waltzes into our secret Liar any time he wants.  How do I insert a defenseless boy into that?”

 

“We could have kept him safe,” Felicity said in a small voice, sad and unsure.

 

“I knew you’d say that,” Oliver all but accused, pointing a finger at her before he could stop himself.  “I had this conversation with you a _million_ times in my mind and you’d say that…that you thought I’d gotten past this when we got together.  That I didn’t need to sacrifice my private life to be the Green Arrow, that I didn’t need to push people away to keep them safe.  That’s what you would have said, right?”

 

“Well, yes, of course,” Felicity admitted, her arms tightly crossed.

 

“And what else have you always said?  That you knew the risks and you chose this life?  That it was your right to chose?”

 

Felicity nodded, looking unsure.

 

“Well, William didn’t chose this life.  And, his mother, she was very clearly choosing to keep him _away_.”

 

Sighing, Felicity paced away from him and Oliver let her, holding his breath.  When she came back she was shaking her head.  “This still doesn’t explain why you lied to me.”

 

“I didn’t lie.  I kept a secret.”

 

“The distinction is irrelevant, Oliver.”

 

Ugh.  He would never win an argument with her.  Never!  “Fine, whatever, the fact is, I couldn’t tell you and still do what I needed to do.”

 

Felicity rolled her eyes.  “And what was that?”

 

“ _Walk away!_ ”  he all but screamed.  “I could never tell you about him and _walk away_.  Felicity, you don’t understand.  I wanted him _so_ badly.  I wanted to be his father and introduce him to you and …I wanted to be a _family_.”  Oliver’s voice cracked at the word and his vision blurred.  “I wanted to talk to him every night and bring him to baseball games and be the _three of us_.  I wanted it so badly I couldn’t stand it.”  He was almost sobbing.

 

Felicity knelt in front of him, shaking her head.  “Then _why_ —?”

 

“Because that’s selfish!  And good parents aren’t selfish.  Good parents do whatever it takes to keep their kids safe.  Healthy.  Happy.  And _safe_.   I was not going to be able to tell you and walk away.  The first argument you had, the first time you encouraged me to fight for him, I would have crumbled.  I would have ruined his life, all because I didn’t have the strength to walk away.”

 

Felicity was crying with him now.  “I still wish you had told me.”

 

Oliver leaned toward her, wishing he was allowed to touch, to get comfort.  “Honestly, Felicity, after I left their house I couldn’t even say his name.  I told Samantha I couldn’t visit for a while.  I just asked her to send me updates.  I had to pretend he had been adopted.  I had to lose myself in work and _you_.  I needed to put him out of my mind.  Once we were back in Star City it was all like a dream.  See, I didn’t lie.  I really thought it was over.  It _had_ to be over.”

 

And that was it.

 

The end of his story.

 

Oliver took a deep breath and searched Felicity’s face.  She looked wrecked, exhausted, shocked, confused.  Tears stained her face.  But this was it.  It was his last chance.  He risked taking her hand again and implored, “Do you understand?”

 

But the tears just started again and Felicity shook her head desperately.  “I…I don’t know.  I—”

 

Oliver couldn’t stand it.  He wrenched away and stood, unable to watch while Felicity told him…while she _left him_.  This had been his last chance to get her to understand and she didn’t.

 

No, she _did_ understand.  She just thought it was all bullshit.  And it was.   _Bullshit_.  It was idiotic.  All of his thinking, all of it had been so very very wrong.  And if he had told her when he should have, she would have made him understand that.  And then, maybe, they wouldn’t be in this position. 

 

With Samantha dead and Felicity leaving him.

 

Oliver bent over in pain, gripping his hair tightly, feeling his sanity slip away.

 

“Oliver…”

 

Felicity was probably realizing how fucked up he was.  She was probably glad for a reason to get out of this freak show before she made the biggest mistake of her life and married him.  Opening his eyes, Oliver saw a large rock on the ground and picked it up, hurling it with all his strength.

 

“ _Oliver_!”

 

“Of course, you don’t understand!” Oliver screamed to the heavens.  He couldn’t rage at her and he had to rage at _something_ , because everything he had built was tumbling down.  “How could you understand when I was so _wrong_.  So _fucking_ wrong!  How many times do I have to make the same mistake before I learn?  Keeping secrets never works!  Even when it’s to keep people safe.  Even when…”

 

Oliver roared at the sky like a mad man, yelling as loud as he could, “I just wanted to keep him safe, goddamn it!  He is _innocent_.  Couldn’t I just have this one thing!  Couldn’t you just let him have his normal life!  It’s not his fault I’m his father.  I gave up _everything_ so he could be happy!  _Everything_!  And still everything is taken from him.  Why?!  Am I so cursed—?”

 

He felt Felicity’s hands on his back and Oliver collapsed onto the dirt, sobbing like a child.  Which, he supposed, was better than screaming like a lunatic.

 

But then, Oliver felt her arms close around him, and he cried harder, harder than he had cried since he was a child, melting into her, because even if Felicity was only holding him because she was a good person and she felt sorry for him.  Even if she was going to leave him when she was done.  Oliver was weak and pathetic and couldn’t pull away.

 

“Shh,” Felicity soothed, rocking him.

 

And Oliver laughed hysterically, because it was all so absurd.  “I don’t know how to do this without you,” he confessed, a teary, snotty mess.  “I don’t know how to live without you anymore.  And now my son is counting on me and I fucked everything up and now I can’t even—”

 

“Shhh,” Felicity cupped his chin, turning his face toward hers.  She was crying too, but she wasn’t a mess.  Not at all.  “You _can_.  Am I allowed to talk now?” she asked, but she didn’t sound angry.  “Because I’m probably going to be passionate and opinionated and intense and I might even tell you I believe in you—”

 

Oliver could only sob.

 

“Can I?” Felicity asked softly.

 

Oliver nodded desperately.  Anything.  Anything she wanted.

 

Felicity met his gaze, with that steady, firm look he loved so much. “You can _do_ this.  I _know_ you can—”

 

“Not without you.”  Because it was the truth.  God, help him, it may be pathetic, but it was the truth.

 

Felicity closed her eyes and took a long breath.   When she opened them, her eyes were still sad and hurt, but they were determined and…full of love.  “Well, then, you are _damned_ lucky you don’t have to.”

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Falls to Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has recent modifications to fit into my series _Our Lives as Heroes_ , which means there are small references to other works, but more importantly, in an effort to keep this cannon as long as possible, I’ve included recent **Spoilers/Rumors**. Read at your own risk. Enjoy!

Felicity didn’t know what to think.

 

She didn’t know what to do.

 

She didn’t know what to feel.

 

Felicity’s admittedly _already_ chaotic world had just been turned upside down and inside out and it… it made her question _everything_.   Everything she knew and the one person that she had always had complete faith in.

 

Because now…she just didn’t.

 

All because of a child.  A miniature version of the man Felicity loved, right down to the identical brooding and kicked puppy-dog expressions. Watching the two of them sit next to each other looking equally lost and miserable made her want to…want to take them both into her arms and make their misery go away.

 

But Felicity couldn’t.

 

Because Oliver had known about this boy since early December, since _last year_.  Over _four months_.  Four months when they had been a close as two people could possibly be, where they went to bed together every night and woke up together every morning, where they had endured her in a wheelchair and constant attacks from all fronts.  Always together.  Always at each other’s side.  Partners.

 

Yet Oliver had been lying to her.  The entire time.  Four months and he had said nothing.  _Nothing_!

 

And that made Felicity question every solitary word that had come out of Oliver’s mouth, including the ones that put his ring on her finger. 

 

Felicity had taken it off, with images of throwing it in Oliver’s face.  Then she had hyperventilated.  Which was followed by the actually physical sensation of her heart was being ripped out of her chest.  And, then, she was shoving the damn thing back on with unnecessary violence and proceeding to cry herself to sleep.

 

That was when Felicity had realized that no matter how angry or hurt she was, she couldn’t throw it all away without knowing the whole story, without fighting for it, for _them_.  Even if the _them_ she thought they were was a complete lie. 

 

That’s the thing about finding out someone you love is keeping an _enormous_ secret from you.  It’s the ‘why.’  But, even worse, the ‘what’…as in _what else_ was Oliver keeping from her?

 

Those two questions could poison the soul.  Or at least a relationship.

 

If Felicity was really the love of Oliver’s life as he had sworn many _many_ times.  Than _why_ on earth would he keep this from her?  How could he?  Didn’t he trust her?  What was he afraid of?  That she would leave him?  That she wouldn’t understand?  That she’d make him choose?  Felicity or his son?  Well, if that was the case, then he didn’t really know her at all.

 

Or did Oliver just think that Felicity would be a terrible mother?  Maybe he wanted her to stay as far away from his son as he could keep her.  She certainly washed out at Ivytown.  She wasn’t exactly the stay-at-home, cookie-baking, PTA-volunteering type.  The cookies would probably explode, actually, and…

 

What if Oliver had run into his beautiful ex-girlfriend, seen what a fantastic mother she was to _his_ son and…and questioned who he should be with?

 

Had Oliver been considering leaving Felicity for the beautiful woman who now lie six feet under in a cold lonely grave?  The woman who the two Queen boys were so obviously mourning.

 

But if that were the truth, why did Oliver propose?  Because that was _after_ he’d found out.  Why…?  Felicity and Oliver had only gotten closer and more intimate in in the last four months, despite her temporary disability.  How could he possibly have been thinking of leaving her for someone else? 

 

Except, who wanted a wife and mother in a wheelchair?  And who _left_ a woman in a wheelchair?  Maybe he had just stayed with her because he felt obligated.

 

Maybe he was planning on keeping both of them.  Having two families in two cities.  It was inconceivable of the man she knew.

 

Unless Oliver Queen had fooled her all along.  Unless he was not the man Felicity thought him to be.  Because if Oliver could lie to her about this, he could lie to her about _anything_.  What if everything she thought she knew about her boyfriend… _fiancé_ was false? 

 

It was enough to make her paranoid.  Or insane.  Wait…wasn’t paranoia a type of insanity?

 

Felicity certainly felt like she was losing her mind.  Her exhausted, over-emotional, neurotic-on-a-good-day brain kept vacillating between telling her she _knew_ Oliver, knew him better than anyone on Earth.  That he was the love of her life.  Her soulmate.  That she needed to have _faith_. 

 

Oliver had to have a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this.  Felicity just needed to be a good fiancée, be patient and compassionate.  It wasn’t as if _she_ had never kept a secret from him.  She had lied to him all summer long and he had forgiven her without a second thought.  He, at least, deserved a chance to explain.

 

But as soon as Felicity started to calm down, her brain would take a sharp right turn.  She’d tell herself that this secret wasn’t even close to the one she kept this summer.  That is wasn’t in the same league.  In seconds, she would convince herself Oliver was a sociopath, leading a double life, completely incapable of love and trust and…

 

Yes, Felicity was definitely losing her mind. 

 

And if Oliver lingered any longer at the grave of his ex-girlfriend while Felicity watched his mini-me stare blankly at _Ultimate Spiderman,_ she may need to be committed.  She hoped Central City had a better mental institution than Star City.

 

Yet, there was a part of her that dreaded Oliver returning.  Because it meant there was no more hiding.  They needed to talk.  They could either work it through.  Or it was all over.

 

Felicity had spent the better part of two days hiding on the internet, trying to find out everything there was to know about Samantha and William Clayton.  Samantha had been murdered, surely there was a relative out there that would want to take over the funeral arrangements and help provide for William. 

 

Not that Felicity was trying to get rid of William.  She understood that if she were to stay with Oliver, William was part of the package now, and that alone was pretty enormous to wrap her head around, but there _had_ to be someone out there that the boy knew better than Oliver.

 

Then again, Felicity had no idea how well William knew Oliver.  Though, the boy had seemed pretty shocked to learn that Oliver was his father and it didn’t seem to be just that he was also learning that his dad was a superhero.

 

Well, whether William was comfortable with Oliver or not, he was coming home with him.  Because there was no one.  Not one solitary relative capable of lending the boy solace.  So that poor boy was coming back to Star City.  He was moving into Thea’s old room.  There was no other choice.

 

Well, Felicity had a choice.  She didn’t need to go back to the Loft.  She could leave Oliver, leave _them_.

 

_That_ realization had led to an hour of sobbing, locked in the bathroom, huddled in an empty nineteenth century bathtub. 

 

Much like taking off the ring, it didn’t take Felicity long to realize that moving out was the last thing she wanted.  She wanted to go home with both Oliver and William.  To try to make it work, but…but it all depended on Oliver now.  On what he had to say.  And if Felicity could believe him.

 

Because Felicity would stay.  Unless she couldn’t.

 

To say she was a wreck when Oliver finally walked through the front door was an understatement.  Though, if how he looked was any indication, she was downright composed compared to him.  Good.  She would hate to think that she was at a disadvantage. 

 

When Oliver approached her for the first time since Barry had shown up in the Arrow Cave, the fog over his eyes had cleared and he looked… _terrified_.

 

Of being a father?

 

Of losing her?

 

Both, Felicity’s instincts told her.  But the events of the last two days made it really hard to trust those instincts.

 

It heartened her that Oliver approached her first, that he didn’t seem intent on avoiding the conversation they so desperately needed to have.  Felicity was surprised when he asked her to let him talk without interrupting.  Irritated, because what right did he have?  Relieved, because _she_ didn’t know where to start.

 

But mostly, Felicity just wanted the truth and if that took shutting up and listening, then that was a small price to pay.  Besides, she needed to use all her faculties to focus on trying to judge whether whatever he told her was the truth or not.

 

And what Oliver told her…it threw her for a loop.  Felicity had thought that she had considered every scenario, but …not _this_.

 

Oh, she had figured out who William was and how Oliver found out about him.  With a little research and what Felicity already knew from their last trip to Central City that wasn’t exactly hard to figure out.

 

And the whole part about Oliver being a self-sacrificing asshole who was completely focused on preserving his son’s perfect life, in not messing it up with his presence, that explanation was _classic_ Oliver, which was why it was something Felicity was actually hoping for.   Because even if it felt like regression, it was still so very _Oliver_. 

 

It was completely in character for the man she knew.  And not the scary sociopath Felicity had created in her head over the last 48 hours.  No, that was the same old idiotically noble Oliver.  And _that_ Felicity knew how to work with.  She’d done it a hundred times before. 

 

But the part of Oliver’s explanation that left Felicity feeling sucker punched was when he told her that he kept things from her because he’d already had the conversation with her in his head.  What it came down to was the fact that Oliver had decided that he didn’t want to hear what she had to say.

 

And even scarier than that was how well Oliver knew her.  Every time he brought up an argument that he believed she would have made, it felt like he was stealing the words straight from Felicity’s mouth.  It was deflating.  Unbalancing.  Invasive almost.

 

Felicity took for granted, well she had in the past, how well _she_ knew _Oliver_ , but she often forgot that it was a two-way street.  Sure, Oliver knew how she liked her eggs and what shampoo she used, but, wow, it kind of felt like he was in her head.  It was frightening and really hard to argue with when he was so completely right.

 

But that feeling that someone knew you so well that he knew your response to every argument…it was oddly comforting too.  It made Felicity feel understood.  Loved.  And with all the other emotions tumbling inside her, it all just made her more confused.

 

In the end, it was easiest to just be irritated with the whole situation.  Insulted, because he knew her reasoning and didn’t want to hear it.  Angry, because she was itching to yell all these arguments at him but he’d taken away their power by saying them first. 

 

Oliver already yelled at and berated himself.  He was already broken.  It left Felicity no one to rage at and that was…really annoying.  She felt cheated.

 

But even though Felicity was still angry and upset and really, really did _not_ agree with Oliver’s logic, it felt as if her world had righted itself.

 

Because even if Felicity didn’t like what Oliver was saying.  She could tell he was, finally, being completely open with her, could tell in her _bones_ he was being truthful.  And the confidence that she could tell when he was lying and telling the truth was back.  Thank God. 

 

Because hadn’t Felicity _known_ back in Central City?  That Oliver was lying then?  Just as she knew _now_ that he was telling the truth?

 

And it meant that this was the man she had fallen in love with, secrets and all.  So maybe Felicity had been a little too confident in his secret keeping recovery and he’d fallen off the wagon.  Big time.  But he wasn’t the strange double-life-leading villain her sleep deprived imagination had painted him as.

 

The important part was that as long as Oliver was still this man, _her_ man, as long as he still loved her, and when Felicity looked into his eyes she could tell that he did, then everything else they could work out.  Felicity would make sure of it.

 

But maybe she’d waited too long to tell Oliver that.  Maybe Felicity had basked a little too much in the relief, enjoying the knowledge that her world wasn’t ending after all, that it was just taking a sharp right turn. 

 

Because while Felicity was assessing how she felt, Oliver…well, he snapped.

 

One minute he was sitting in front of her with soft pleading eyes, the next he was flying across the field, wailing like a wounded animal.  Then Oliver hurled that rock like he was fighting some sort of unseen monster and she flinched, genuinely scared for a moment.  Felicity had never seen Oliver have a breakdown like this.  It was terrifying and…

 

_Comforting_.  God, sometimes, she was a terrible person.  But sometimes, Felicity felt like she was alone in this, this feeling of being so connected to Oliver, that the whole soulmate thing was a happy delusion she had created in her head. 

 

Something had happened in this last year.  Somewhere between traveling the world and fighting for her life, between running a team and a company and a city, between dealing with a disability and a miracle recovery, Felicity almost felt as if they had become so enmeshed that if they separated they would never be whole again.  It was a concept that scared her to death.

 

But seeing Oliver like this, clear evidence that he felt the same, made it bearable.  And even a little… _amazing_.

 

So when Oliver raged at God…or whoever… like a madman, Felicity knew she could bring him back with a touch.  She could and she did.  And it comforted more than just him.

 

One gentle touch on Oliver’s back and he collapsed, melted into Felicity like a magnet ripped in two and finally fusing back together.  It was melodramatic, sure, but it really felt like her soul was whole again, kneeling there with Oliver wrapped in her arms.

 

“I don’t know how to do this without you,” Oliver sobbed.  Felicity didn’t think she’d ever seen him sob before.  It made her own throat close.  “I don’t know how to live without you anymore.  And now my son is counting on me and I fucking up everything and now I can’t even—”

 

“Shhh.  You _can_.” The words came naturally, as easily as breathing.  Then Felicity realized she was going into the mode Oliver described earlier, about to give a speech.   “Am I allowed to talk now?” she asked, defensively.  “Because I’m probably going to be passionate and opinionated and intense and I might even tell you I believe in you—”

 

Oliver’s only response was a moaning sob.

 

“Can I?” Felicity asked again, because his review of her speeches before had been mixed at best and she really didn’t feel like opening herself up for criticism.

 

Oliver managed to nod and she made sure he was looking at her before she continued, “You can _do_ this.  I _know_ you can—”

 

“Not without you.” 

 

Felicity closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn’t continue to torture him, even if a small part of her wanted to.  Part of her felt like this was giving in too easily, but what happened now was on both of them.  This was _their_ future they were talking about.   She still had questions, conditions even, but Oliver needed some reassurance first. 

 

“Well, then, you are _damned_ lucky you don’t have to.”

 

Oliver perked up immediately, looking up at her with such hope in his eyes that it almost broke her heart as he asked, “Felicity?”  There was a wealth of questions in that one word.

 

All it took was her name and Felicity wanted to cave, to forgive him and pretend it never happened.  None of it.  But she couldn't.  She needed more first.  

 

"Oliver, do you love me?" 

 

That wasn't what Felicity had planned to start with, it wasn’t actually something she doubted, but since it came out, she would go with it.  There was a point that she needed to make.  

 

Oliver, on the other hand, looked shocked and, quite honestly, insulted by the question.  He stared at her, opening and closing his mouth several times before sputtering, “Felicity, I…. how could you not know…?”

 

“I've questioned a lot of things I _know_ in the last two days, so I'm afraid I need you to say it—”

 

“Oh God, baby.  I love you.  Of _course_ , I love you,” Oliver fumbled to sit up on his knees and cup her face with shaking hands.  “I have never loved anyone or anything as much as I...”

 

Oliver faded off, stricken, seeming to realize for the first time he had someone he needed to love at least as much as her.  But comparing was not something Felicity would ever ask of him or even want him to do.

 

Instead, she stayed with her point.  “Because, Oliver, when you keep something from me, something this _huge_ , it doesn't feel like you love me.”  Oliver flinched, but Felicity held his gaze.  “It feels like you're keeping pieces of yourself from me, that you don't want to share your _entire_ life with me.” 

 

Oliver kept shaking his head as she spoke.   “No, I—”

 

“It feels like you don't trust me.   Not with the big stuff.”

 

“No!” Oliver insisted.  “None of that is true, I…”

 

Felicity just looked at him intently, letting him process, because even though she believed (now anyway) that wasn't what he intended, he had to understand why it felt that way.

 

“I…Felicity, not once did it occur to me to keep this from you because I didn't _trust_ you.   I knew I was betraying _your_ trust.  Which I'm so _so_ sorry for, but all I was trying to do was keep him safe and stay sane.  That's it.”

 

“But you didn't trust me to help you,” Felicity insisted, not because she was angry, she wasn't, not anymore, but it was still the truth.

 

“I _did_ trust you!”  Oliver swore, his voice rising, slightly desperate.

 

Felicity lowered hers in contrast, murmuring, “You didn't trust me to respect your wishes about keeping your distance from William.”

 

“No,” Oliver argued, his voice quiet now too, but passionate, “I _trusted_ that you would try to talk me out of it.  I _trusted_ you to put me first and believe in me and…because that's what you do and who you are and that's how I want you to stay.   And I didn't trust _myself_ not to fold at your first argument.”

 

“Oh, Oliver.”  He made it so hard to stay angry, sometimes.  Even when he was a complete idiot.  “That’s not ok either.  If we get married—”

 

“ _If_?”  Oliver’s voice broke on the word, his eyes flicking to her ring, sad and scared.  Heaven help her.

 

“ _When_ we get married,” Felicity caved, “you need to have trust in us as a couple, that I will push you sometimes, but also that I’ll stop if you ask me to.  And _you_ need to ask me to when that’s what you need.”

 

Oliver grabbed her hand, quickly as if she would snatch it away if he gave her half a chance.  “All I can promise is that I’ll try.  But never doubt that I love you.”

 

That was the thing about doubt, once it set in, it was like a disease, it spread and infected everything.  But Felicity didn’t say that.  Instead, she said, “I love you, too.  Frighteningly so.  But I need you to promise to stop keeping secrets like this.”

 

Looking past her, Oliver snorted in self-disgust.  “You have no idea how many times I’ve wished I could just go back and pick up that damn phone while I was still in _Jitters_ , before my stupid brain kicked in and started spinning me in knots.”

 

“Do it!”  Felicity insisted, her loud voice coming out.  “Next time just _do_ it.”

 

“Next time?”  Oliver laughed bitterly.  “God, Felicity, I can’t handle a next time.”

 

“I’m serious, Oliver.”

 

“So am I!”  Oliver shifted closer, taking both her hands in his.  “Felicity, I don’t have any secrets left.  You know everything that I can even imagine is worth knowing.  This one blindsided me. My heart can’t handle another like this.”

 

“It can,” Felicity insisted, seriously, “with my help.”

 

She watched a smile start small and spread over his exhausted features.  “Ok, yeah,” Oliver breathed.  “I think I’ve finally learned my lesson.  No secrets.”   

 

Oliver meant it.  That much Felicity was sure, but for some reason it felt like one of those promises, like staying safe and always coming back, that weren’t fully in their control.  But it had to be enough for now. 

 

So, when Oliver drew her into his embrace, Felicity went gladly, collapsing her drained body against his chest with relief.

 

It had been less than three days since they had held each other like this, but it felt like so much longer.  Felicity had taken this for granted a mere week ago, but now that she had lived with the possibility that she might never have it again… In some ways it had felt even worse than when she’d thought she’d never walk again.

 

 Burying her face in his chest, Felicity doubled the strength of her embrace, feeling the answering pull from Oliver.  God, the last two days had been hell.  The paranoia, the doubts…

 

“Oliver?” Felicity asked. “ _So_ … just to be clear, at no point did you consider leaving me to get back together with Samantha, right?”  

 

She hated how small and unsure she sounded.  But when Oliver pulled back, an utterly shocked and incredulously look on his face, well, Felicity loved that.

 

“What?  Seriously?”

 

Felicity enjoyed the disbelief in Oliver’s voice, but now that her insecurities had voice, they wouldn’t go back into hiding.  “Because Samantha is clearly a whole lot better at that Ivytown Domestic Bliss thing than I was.  You came back into the world of crime fighting for me.  If you moved to Central City, it would have been a perfect ready-made family.  Peaceful.  Calm.”

 

Cupping her face, Oliver forced her to look at him.  “Felicity, baby… _never_.  I swear.  Never.  Is _that_ what you thought—?”

 

"Briefly.”  Well, maybe not so briefly.   Really depends on one’s definition of ‘briefly’.  It had probably been Felicity’s biggest fear. 

 

“Not for a microsecond did I consider leaving…”  Oliver shook his head in disbelief.  “You are the _only_ one I want to be with.  Felicity, I asked you to _marry_ me.”

 

“Only after my mother found the ring and I forced your hand,” Felicity blurted out.

 

Again, Oliver's jaw dropped.  “You didn't _force my hand,_ ” he started to argue, then winced and Felicity's stomach turned over.  In a very _not_ good way.  “Ok, maybe, I do have one more teeny-tiny secret.”  He must have seen the terror on her face, because he pushed forward, his words coming faster.  “I never told you the real reason it took me so long to propose.”

 

Tears stung.  "You were having second thoughts, weren't you?”

 

“No!  I told you…it’s kind of embarrassing, Felicity.”  Oliver dragged a hand over his face before fumbling for her left hand.  “So, I… The reason is that I was getting the ring reset.”

 

“What?”  Felicity asked confused, as she held up her hand to take a look at her beautiful ring.  “Why?”

 

Oliver closed his eyes, looking utterly humiliated.  “Because I almost proposed with my mother’s ring.”

 

Felicity still didn't understand why he was so upset by this.  “Your mother’s—”

 

“I didn't want to use your money to buy a new one and I couldn't afford a nice one myself so I thought it was the perfect scenario,” Oliver babbled, grabbing her hand and staring at the ring.   “But when we came home, Digg said I couldn't propose with my mother’s ring, because you didn't like my mother—”

 

Eek.  “That's not true,” Felicity protested with a wince.

 

Oliver looked up at her through lowered lashes and smiled a bit.  “No lies, remember.”

 

“Weeeelll, I don't know if I'd go...”  Felicity fell back on her old standby.  “I think she really loved you and Thea.  I liked _that_ about her.”

 

Oliver's lip twitched.  “And not much else.”  Felicity started to protest again, but he stopped her.  “It's ok.   I just…after Digg explained, I just wanted you to love the ring—”

 

“I _do_.  I love it.”   Felicity was starting to feel silly and petty for bringing this up.

 

“This,” Oliver lifted her left hand, “is my mother’s 3 carat diamond, in a custom made setting designed especially for you.  It took the entire month of November to make.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.  Oh.”

 

Felicity stared at the ring.   It really was perfect.   She hadn't realized how perfect.   “That is… _incredibly_ thoughtful.”  She reached up to cup Oliver's cheek with her right hand.  “Why didn't you tell me?”

 

“Sweetheart…” Oliver's voice cracked.   “Those days after the proposal, I wasn't exactly thinking clearly.”

 

Right.  The whole almost dying thing.   Then her legs and…not the best memories.   One glance at Oliver's swimming eyes and she could tell he felt the same.   It was probably worse for him actually.  Felicity had been unconscious for half of December.

 

Felicity couldn't think of a thing to say, not without crying, so she pressed her lips to his and Oliver surged into her like a drowning man being allowed his first lungful of air.  The passion and emotion in his kiss took her breath away and wiped out any remaining doubts.  The raw honesty in his touch was undeniable.

 

She felt stupid for doubting the motivation behind his proposal, but it just proved how destructive the silliest little secret could be.  Like how she’d always wondered if he ever would have proposed if her mother hadn't found the ring.  And how Oliver was embarrassed that he hadn't considered that she might not have wanted to wear his mother’s ring her entire life.

 

Right now, it didn't feel like it would have mattered at all.   Right now, all Felicity wanted was to be married to this wonderfully flawed man, who was kissing her as if she were the most precious thing in the universe.

 

When she finally broke away with a sigh, they shared a soft smile and Felicity laid her head on Oliver’s chest, wrapping her arms around him.   It was a peaceful moment and it felt good.   More than good.

 

But Felicity couldn't help feeling like this was just the eye of the storm.  While she was incredibly grateful that her and Oliver were able to clear the air and work through their relationship issues, the next challenges were going to be something else entirely.  And it may not be something Felicity was suited for.

 

“William is coming home with us,” Felicity murmured, into Oliver’s chest.   Not able to look at him as she broached the subject for the first time, the subject of their entire life changing.  

 

Oliver stiffened, but his arms only tightened around her.  "Is that what you want?” he asked so quietly that Felicity could barely make out the words.  

 

“Oliver, we have no choice.”  Did he think they did?

 

“But is that what _you_ want?”

 

Pulling back so she could gage what he was _really_ asking, Felicity searched Oliver's face.  He couldn't really be thinking of sending William away… _oh_ …

 

The vulnerability in Oliver's eyes was painful to behold.  Felicity tried to smile reassuringly.  “Oliver, he is your son.  He _is_ coming home with us.”

 

“But—”

 

Felicity silenced him with two fingers to his lips.  “He is your son, so I will love him, because I love you and he's a part of you.”   Oliver's lip quivered a bit as he smiled.  And Felicity’s throat burned, because loving William didn't mean she would be good at it.  “I can promise to love him, but I can't promise to be as good a mother as Samantha was.”

 

She must have looked pretty pathetic, because Oliver's expression melted from scared to grateful to reassuring in a heartbeat. “Felicity, no one expects you to replace her.”

 

“Of course not,” Felicity scoffed.  As if the boy would let her.  She knew enough about stepparents a to know that was mistake number one.  Oh, God, she was going to be a _step parent._ “But Samantha seemed like she was the perfect mother, from everything I've seen.   I'm a career woman and computer geek.  I'm completely socially inept.   Oliver I can't bake cookies!”

 

Ok, so, maybe her voice took on a slightly hysterical edge at the end there.

 

And Oliver had the nerve to chuckle.  “You are _not_ socially inept.  You are adorably quirky.”  Felicity scoffed and was rewarded with a kiss to her nose.  She felt like a cocker spaniel.  “And baking cookies is one thing I _can_ do.  Don't take that away from me.”

 

That smile could move mountains, but Felicity's anxiety was mounting way too quickly now to be cured so easily.  “Oliver, don't pretend you don't worry that I'm not mother material.”

 

Oliver's forehead creased.  “I _don't_.”

 

Now was not the time for half-truths.  “You, yourself, said you didn't think I was ready to have kids.”

 

“I said…”  Oliver trailed off with a frustrated look on his face, most likely realizing that was exactly what he said.  “I _meant_ that I thought you might not _want_ kids right now.  Every time we’ve talked about kids you made it clear that you considered them _years_ down the road.  Haven’t I told you that I want to have kids with you?”

 

Felicity blushed, starting to feel silly again.  “Yes,” she murmured.  “But that was before you actually had a kid.  One with a different kind of mom—”

 

“First off, I’m certain we’ve had the kid discussion since I found out about William, because I felt horrifically guilty each time.  We talked about at Christmas in the hospital and we talked about it when they told us they didn’t know if you could walk again.  Which, by the way, felt like really horrible times to confess that I knew about William.”

 

Felicity swallowed, “I guess.”  Now that Oliver mentioned it, she remembered those conversations quiet clearly. 

 

“I think I had good reason to think that you might really freak you out,” Oliver argued.  “Then because of your medical condition, you couldn’t handle any extra stress and now…you just got your life back.  You _love_ being CEO during the day and running Team Arrow at night.  You barely have time to sleep as it is.    A nine-year-old doesn't neatly fall into that plan.”

 

“I don't think a nine-year-old fits neatly into _anyone's_ plans,” Felicity defended.

 

Oliver smiled.  “Perhaps, but my point was that I never thought you wouldn't be _good_ at it.”

 

That brought the sting back to her eyes.  “I'm not sure I'm mother material.”

 

"Of _course_ you are.”  Oliver looked so certain.  “You're the most loving person I know.”

 

That made Felicity smile through the tears.  Now, that she wasn't feeling like her relationship with Oliver was in danger, the reality of bringing home an extremely vulnerable child _was_ starting to freak her out some. Ok, a lot.  Not because she didn't want him.  Because, dear God, what if she were terrible at it.

 

“Oliver, I killed my goldfish,” she confessed, guiltily.

 

He seemed fight a smile.  “Children aren't goldfish.”

 

“Tell me that this never crossed your mind when you decided not to tell me.”  She sounded whiny.  Felicity hated sounding whiny.

 

Oliver didn't seem to mind.  He just twined their hands together and told her seriously, “Did I worry about your reaction?   That it would freak you the fuck out?  Yes.  But if that was all I was worried about…God, if _only_ …I would have told you right away.”

 

It wasn't that Oliver wasn't reassuring.   He was.  It was wonderful.  He was wonderful.  But the insecurities were dying a slow death.  “I need you to swear to me that you’re ok with raising a child with me, because if we're going to get married—”

 

“Felicity,” Oliver seemed almost exasperated now, though sweetly so.  “You are the _only_ person I have ever wanted to raise a child with, that I have even _contemplated_ raising a child with.  The first time I even thought that I _might_ want a baby was the day I saw you with baby Sara.  I never wanted a family until I wanted one with you.  Christ, if I thought you were ready and the city wasn't falling apart at the seems, I'd want to get pregnant right away…now…”

 

“Whoa,” Felicity laughed, tears flowing freely, but, like, in a good way.  A really, really good way.   “Let's not get ahead of ourselves.”

 

“I know.  I know.  It's not the time, but I want to have a family with _you_.   Only you.”  Oliver was rambling.  Felicity loved when he did that.  The content didn't hurt either.  “Well, you and William.  I want the three of us to be a family.   And maybe more.  Someday.”  He sputtered to a stop, swallowing and bitting his lip, looking too adorable to be allowed, especially in such a strong manly package.   “If you’ll have us.  So, Felicity Smoak, will you have us?   Will you marry me, despite everything?”

 

Felicity almost argued that the enormous custom ring on her finger answered that question, but it wasn't the time for that.  So, she grinned and said, “Yes, you big idiot.  Apparently, I love you too much not to.”

 

Oliver smiled, wide open and relaxed.  “And you forgive me?  For being an idiot?”

 

“Wellllll, I wouldn't say I'm _totally,_ 100% over it, but—”

 

Felicity must have conveyed that she was (mostly) teasing, because Oliver cut her off with a kiss.  And this time, he kissed her with confidence, with no hesitance that would implied a fear of being welcomed, just the firm, but gentle, slide of his lips.  It felt like coming home.

 

And even though now was so not the time for sexy times, when Oliver parted her lips, Felicity welcomed his tongue because the need to be as close as possible was just too strong. 

 

Felicity let herself get lost in him, in their reunion, for long minutes, until it started to become clear that maybe Oliver didn't share her opinion that it was _not_ the time for sexy times and she pulled back with a happy sigh. 

 

Oliver went to chase her lips, but Felicity held him off with a gentle push and a soft laugh.  “Enough.  You have a son—”

 

“We.”

 

Felicity blushed because it was presumptuous and just so wonderful.   “ _We_ have a boy back there who is in ten kinds of pain right now.  If we're going to be parents, the we should, you know, parent.”

 

Oliver's response was a bright smile that spread across his tired face and a brief press of his lips against hers.  “Thank you,” he breathed, almost reverent.

 

Grinning, Felicity allowed Oliver to help her to her feet and lace his hand with hers.   His right with her left, so he could run his thumb over her ring. 

 

Whatever was waiting for them in that farmhouse terrified her, but now Felicity knew it was going to be ok.  Just one more adventure for them to face.  Together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received some feedback (which I am grateful for) from the first chapter that some felt it was too negative toward Felicity, that Oliver was blaming her, and that he didn’t apologize enough. I don’t really agree with all of that, though I understand their point of view. I’m hoping that this chapter and Felicity’s POV made it clear that the situation is more two-way-street-ish. 
> 
> Neither of these characters are perfect. That’s why we love them, because they are flawed, otherwise they would be boring and unrelatable. And don’t forget that Felicity lied to Oliver _all summer long._
> 
> Also, sooo much Samantha Clayton hate out there. I could write an essay defending her, just because I’m having underdog feels for the character, not because I really care about her (other then that she is so conveniently killable ;) ) For the purposes of this story, Samantha is an imperfect, young, single mom who is trying to do what is best for her son. 
> 
> (Though somebody needs to write a story where Samantha is _actually evil_ , maybe even Damian Darhk’s daughter, and Oliver unwittingly left his son in the viper’s den.)
> 
> Chapter Three will hopefully be up next week, before the next episode of Arrow comes out to mess with my (our?) heads. The next chapter was very unexpected for me and it took on a life of it’s own. I really like the way it turned out, so I hope you do to.
> 
> Thanks for reading. Comments and kudos and highly appreciated.
> 
> Emmy


	3. You Rebuild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the _Arrow_ writers went and made this non-cannon. So annoying. And after I tried so hard to incorporate spoilers. I knew I should have got this out last week. Sigh. So, now this is AU after the last 30 seconds of 4x10.

Walking back to the farmhouse, with Felicity's hand in his, Oliver finally felt like he could breathe again.  More than breathe actually… Thirty minutes ago he felt like his world was ending.  Now, it was a brand new start.

 

There were no more secrets or fears holding their relationship back.  Oliver had a new confidence that if they could handle this, they could handle anything.  And his son…he had his _son_.

 

If Oliver was honest with himself, he'd admit that this was what he had wanted from the moment he had found out William was his.  Him, William, and Felicity going home, together.  Not that he’d wanted Samantha dead.  Never that.  And, yes, he had imagined more of an every-other-weekend arrangement and not the full-time parenting of a traumatized and grieving child, especially so soon after Felicity had gotten her legs back.

 

But Oliver could do this.  _They_ could do this.   He had always felt like he could do anything with Felicity by his side and this was no different. 

 

Oliver pulled Felicity closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple.  Just walking with her like this was a miracle.  Her hand settled on his waist and it felt like everything was slotting back into place.

 

Then he heard the crash.

 

And glass breaking.

 

A boy screaming.

 

His _son_ … screaming.

 

Oliver broke away at a run.  He ran as fast as he could ever remember running, yelling back to Felicity, “Get my bow!”

 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.  

 

How could he have left William for so long, knowing that Darhk had targeted him.  When would Oliver learn that Darhk would stop at nothing?  And where was Digg?  Thea?  William wasn't supposed to be unguarded for a _second_. 

 

But what if Digg and Thea had already been taken out?  What if…?

 

Oliver skidded to a halt in the middle of the living room. 

 

Ummm…ok…

 

Thea and John were standing with their hands up, completely overwhelmed, while Oliver's son trashed the room. 

 

The TV was on its side.  There were pillows and cushions from the couch everywhere.   William had a vase in his hand and howled as he threw it against the wall, making Oliver and the other adults flinch as it shattered.

 

Thea noticed Oliver first, gasping out, “Oliver, thank God!”

 

Thank God?  What the hell?  Oliver didn't know what the to do!   John at least had a kid of his own and _he_ looked completely lost as how to handle this.  If Diggle didn't know what to do, how was Oliver supposed to figure it out.  Metahumans he knew what to do with, this…

 

“What happened?”  Oliver asked, because he had to say something and he couldn't think of anything else.

 

Thea just shook her head, looking shell-shocked. 

 

"We were just watching Spider-Man,” John explained, his eyes warily tracking William, his muscles tense as if he didn't know if he should try to stop the boy or not.  “You know, the new cartoon on the Disney Channel.  Everything was fine, then…Will, man, what did you see—?”

 

“My name is not _Will_!”  The boy screamed, so loudly Oliver's ears rang.  William’s face was red and his fists were clenched and Oliver was really glad that there was no one in this room that the boy could conceivably hurt. 

 

“Hey, hey,” Oliver, tried, his voice soft and his hands up in the surrender position.  “Digg was just trying to help.  He didn't know—”

 

“No one _knows_!  I.  Want.  My.  Mother!”

 

At that, the adults became like stone.   What the hell were they supposed to say to _that_?!  Samantha was gone.  There was nothing they could say or do to bring her back, to make this right.

 

William eyeballed them with a wild look on his face, almost as if he were daring them to say something, _do_ something.  When no one did, he growled and turned to the small table, banging it against the wall before clearing the contents with one sharp swipe of his arm, sending the everything clattering to the floor.

 

There was a moment of utter silence.   Even William was mute as he stood over the destruction.

 

Then Felicity's dry voice rang out, “I guess we don't need a paternity test.” 

 

Despite her odd, slightly insulting, if accurate, assessment, Oliver's shoulders relaxed at the sight of his fiancé.  William on the other hand, shrunk, crouching into a ball, laying his crossed arms over his knees and hiding his face in his arms. 

 

Felicity walked in looking a little too calm.  There was a tremor in her hand that told Oliver that she was feeling anything by confident.  But she tossed Oliver his quiver and said casually, “It doesn't look like you’ll be needing that.”  Then she knelt next to William and placed Oliver’s bow on the floor next to them.  “When my dad left…I was seven…I trashed a room or two.”

 

William lifted his head just enough to study her with one eye and Oliver's lips twitched upward.  God, she was perfect.

 

Felicity’s face screwed up as if she were remembering as she continued, “My mom always let me.  Of course, she always made me clean it up later, which was a whole lot less fun.”  William flinched at the word ‘mom’, but Felicity didn't waver.  “I bet your mom would’ve made you clean up too.”

 

William buried his face in his arms again with a sniffle, but he nodded, which was the most positive communication they'd gotten out of him so Oliver counted it as a win. 

 

“Well, not right away, of course.   I always got warm milk first,” Felicity told William, shifting a little closer.  “Do you like warm milk?”  William just shrugged.  “Well, I don't think we have chocolate milk, so plain will have to do.  Thea, could you get us some milk?”

 

Thea nodded vigorously and gratefully, fleeing to the kitchen with all due haste.

 

“John?” Felicity continued, her voice even.  “Can you see if you can find something to clean up the glass.  For later, of course.”

 

Digg smiled reassuringly, and approvingly, at Felicity before stepping out.  She moved to sit cross-legged next to William and put a hand on his shoulder.  Oliver found it encouraging that his son didn't flinch away.

 

Felicity's eyes met Oliver’s and he swallowed, carefully stepping closer.  When Felicity didn't protest or send him away as well, Oliver carefully sat in front of them, placing his quiver with the sharp, pointy things behind him.  He knew enough to know it wasn’t something he wanted near a tantruming nine-year-old. 

 

Beyond that, Oliver was lost.  He kept looking to Felicity for reassurance.  Despite her fears, she seemed to be the only one who knew what the hell to do in this situation.  And by the way she was looking at him, Felicity seemed to think it was his turn to speak.

 

Oliver took a deep breath and cautiously tried, “William?”  His son became rigid at the sound of his voice, but Oliver pressed on, “I'm really sorry about your mother, buddy.”

 

William broke out into sobs.

 

Oh God.  Oh God.  Could Oliver be _more_ of a failure at this father thing?   What the hell was he supposed to do _now_? 

 

But Felicity put her arm around William’s shoulders and he didn't flinch away.  That was something, right?

 

"I didn't know your mom,” Felicity said quietly, “but I heard she was pretty awesome.”

 

Oliver held his breath.  What was she doing?  William started to cry harder, but he nodded.  

 

"I also heard she was a really _great_ mom.”

 

William whimpered something that might have been an agreement, but it was hard to tell, because the sobs were now heart-wrenchingly loud.   It made Oliver feel nauseous.  He'd never felt so powerless in his life.

 

“A mom like that deserves a really good cry.”

 

Oliver tensed, terrified of William’s reaction to that Hail Mary Pass, but his son let out a wail and turned toward Felicity, falling into her and clutching her shirt, sobbing onto her chest.  Felicity's arms closed around him and she rocked him as William seemed to try to burrow himself inside her embrace.  Oliver knew how the kid felt.   Like father like son, it seemed.

 

How could Felicity have worried for one moment that she wouldn’t be a good mom?  Oliver hadn't considered the possibility.  Later, when they were alone, he'd have to make sure she understood that.  That with all his inadequacy as a man and a father, at least Oliver had found them the perfect woman.

 

Thea came in and placed a glass of milk on the now empty table, before being waved away by Felicity.  John came back too, quietly sweeping up anything dangerous from the floor and leaving the broom before he slipped out again as well.

 

And still William cried.  And Felicity held him.  And Oliver waited. 

 

It seemed like forever before the sobbing slowed and William looked up, wiping his eyes.  Oliver hastily fumbled for a tissue, glad for something to contribute as he handed it over.   Felicity helped William clean his face, which he seemed too old for, but seemed to find comforting.

 

“Do you want some milk?” Felicity asked, her voice sounding raspy as well.

 

William nodded and Oliver immediately went for the cup, not wanting to disturb them, not when his son was still leaning so comfortably against his girl.  “I don't think it's very warm anymore,” Oliver warned as he handed over the glass.  “I could heat it up for you.”

 

But William just took the glass and drained it in three gulps, leaving Oliver to feel like he needed to say something, though he had no idea what that something should be.

 

Oliver was still searching for words when William asked softly, "Did your dad ever come back?”

 

Felicity's eyes flickered down to where William’s head lay against her chest.  She kept up a steady rhythm of stroking his hair which he seemed to like.  “Mine?” she asked, seeming confused for a moment.  William nodded and she sighed.  “No.  No, he never did.”

 

Oliver was still processing that when William finally turned to him, addressing him directly for the first time, “Are you really my dad?”

 

Oliver's heart turned over.  “Yes,” he managed, his voice cracking.   Real eloquent.

 

“And _you_ came back?”

 

Oh God.  If _that_ wasn't a gut wrenching question.  Oliver nodded, slowly and deliberately, not even trusting his voice.

 

"For me?"

 

Christ.  “Yes.”

 

“My mother said you were dead.” William’s voice was so small when he said it. 

 

Did he sound betrayed?  Disbelieving?  What the hell was Oliver supposed to say to that?  Was he supposed to tell William that the mother he adored, who had just _died_ , had lied to him for his entire life?  Somehow, the idea of messing with his memory of her made Oliver sick.

 

“William—”

 

“Well, he _was_ dead,” Felicity threw out there, obviously taking pity on her poor pathetic fiancé.  William’s eyes flew to her in confusion and she pressed on.  “Well. Not _dead_ dead.   He hasn't been _resurrected_ or anything…not that we don't know people who were—”

 

Oliver's eyes snapped to hers and he gave her a look.  A kind of panicked, _what-the-hell_ look.

 

“Right.  Too soon.  No, your dad…” Felicity babbled and Oliver hoped his son would find it as endearing as he did, “he almost died and he was _presumed_ dead for many years.  Wasn't the only time either.  I swear, he has more lives than a cat.”

 

William’s eyes widened and he glanced at Oliver, who shrugged helplessly.  But he needn't have worried that he needed to comment, because his son’s eyes were back on Felicity, transfixed. 

 

"William, do you know who your dad is?” Felicity asked.

 

Biting his lip, he looked up at Felicity and asked in a small voice, “The Green Arrow?”

 

Oliver's heart jumped at that, but Felicity just chuckled.  “Yes, but before that?   Your dad was… _is_ Oliver Queen.”

 

That got another quick, shy glance from his son. 

 

“Have you heard of him?”

 

William’s only response was a single nod.

 

“Well, when you were a little baby there was a shipwreck in the South China Sea and everybody thought Oliver was dead.  For _five years_.”

 

Felicity had a flare for the dramatic when she wanted to.   But William was eating it up, looking at him with a wonder that Oliver couldn't help feel was a miracle. 

 

“Is that true?” William asked him in awe.

 

Oliver swallowed again.  “Yes.”  It's good thing his better half had a way with words.

 

“Oh, you can look it up on the Internet,” Felicity insisted.  She was really warming up to the story now and Oliver couldn't help but grin.  “See, your father got onto that ship a spoiled, silly, rich kid.  Then there was an accident and he washed up on an island.  He had to become strong and courageous and clever to survive.  And he _did_.”

 

A warm flush settled over Oliver at her words and it only intensified at the look in William’s eyes.  “He was there all by himself?”

 

“No, I—”

 

But Felicity wasn't letting Oliver hijack his own story, probably worried he'd ruin her fairytale with a little too much reality.  “Actually, there were all sorts of _villains_ there that your dad had to vanquish.”

 

Vanquish, huh?

 

“And my dad defeated them all.”  It wasn't a question.

 

“Well, of course.  He's the strongest and the bravest.”

 

Oliver didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  It sounded more like they were talking about a comic book character than him.

 

He almost didn't catch it when William turned to him and asked, “Is that where you learned to shoot a bow and arrow?”

 

“Yes.”  That seemed to be all Oliver knew how to say.

 

William’s face lit up, but then he tilted his head, studying Oliver with an intensity that seemed too keen for a 9-year-old boy.  “But why didn't my mom tell me when you got off the island?”

 

Crap.  This kid was too smart for him.  “I don't know, buddy.”   What was Oliver supposed to do, tell William that his mom thought his dad was an asshole and his family a parasite on society?

 

“I think she thought you were happy and didn't want to change that,” Felicity offered softly, saving Oliver once again. 

 

Unfortunately, though, William’s eyes were now glued to Oliver.  “But why didn't you come for me?”

 

“I…” Oliver really didn't want to lie to the boy.   They'd had too many lies.   “I didn't know.”

 

William’s little forehead crinkled.  “You didn't know about me?”

 

Oliver shook his head, feeling like he was navigating a mine field.

 

“My mother never told you about me?”   William sounded lost and confused.  Hurt.

 

Oliver looked to Felicity, but she seemed stumped as well.   Oliver swallowed and forced a smile.  “Remember, I was spoiled and silly back when I knew your mom.  A real…” You can't use the word ‘ass’ around kids, could you?  “…jerk.  I don't think your mom thought I'd be a good father.  She only wanted what was best for you.”

 

William blinked at him.  Oliver waited to see if he'd buy it or insist that any father was better than none.  Or that he deserved the truth regardless.  Oliver was pretty sure that's what he would have said when he was William’s age.

 

He was not prepared for, “But you must of loved each other.  How could you make a baby, if you didn't love each other?”

 

Well, _shit_.  On top of everything else Oliver was _not_ prepared to explain sex to his nine-year-old.

 

Felicity laughed nervously, looking as freaked out by that particular question as he was.  “Well, your dad may have been spoiled, silly, and jerky, but he was also charming, clever and handsome.” She smiled down at William, bumping his shoulder.  “You've got some good genes, kid.”

 

That earned a tiny smile.

 

But Oliver couldn't count on Felicity to fight all of his battles for him.  And he was a politician now.  He knew a little something about spin control.  “Your mom and me, we had a very short love affair.”  That was certainly overstating it, but Oliver glanced at Felicity and she seemed to be smile approvingly, so he continued, “We parted before you were born, so I never knew.  About you, I mean.  Your mom and I lived in different states.”

 

Please, let that be enough.  Let William understand.  

 

"When did you find out?" William asked and Oliver didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

 

“Last December.  Do you remember?  I saw you with your mom in Jitters and I just had a feeling.  Your mom…confirmed it.”  That was lame.  No way William was letting it end there.  The kid was too smart.

 

"So why didn't you tell me you were my dad then?   Why did you lie?”

 

Yup, called _that_ one.  Now what?

 

“Is it because you're the Green Arrow?”

 

Oh. Thank _God_.  “Yes, actually it is,” Oliver agreed quickly and with great relief.  Because, really, in simplistic terms, that was exactly why.

 

William nodded sagely, melting back into Felicity and leaning his head on her shoulder.   Smart kid.  He looked up at her and said, “Superheroes always keep secrets to keep the people they love safe.  That's how it works.”

 

Felicity smiled at him.  “That's certainly how your dad has always felt, even if it wasn’t the smartest choice.”

 

Nodding, William agreed, “It never works out very well in the comics, either.”

 

"He's starting to learn,” Felicity laughed.  “You can help me remind him.”

 

William’s smile was pleased, but he sobered pretty quickly, asking, “Some really bad people killed my mom?”

 

“Yes.”  Ok, Oliver needed to stop with the one word answers.  “Metahumans.”  Oh, that was _much_ better.

 

William swallowed visibly, intelligent eyes taking it all in.  “Supervillains?” 

 

Oliver nodded because that was true enough.

 

“And they wanted to kill me too?”

 

“Oh…” Wow, this kid pulled no punches with the questions thing, “I’m not sure if they wanted to _kill_ you or just take you…”  As if that were better.  Oliver was going to be shit at this dad thing.

 

“To use me to get to you?”

 

Oliver nodded, waves of guilt washing over him.  “I’m _so_ sorry about your mom, William.  I wish I could have saved her.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” William told him with the child-like certainty of someone who still lived in a word where everyone wore black or white hats.  Metaphorically, that is.  “It’s the supervillain’s fault.  These guys were evil, like Captain Cold.”

 

“Actually,” Felicity chimed in, “Captain Cold isn’t so bad—”

 

“These men were much worse than Captain Cold, buddy,” Oliver interrupted, sending Felicity a stern glance.  With everything they were laying on the boy, they didn’t need to try to explain the morally ambiguous, time traveling sometimes-hero that was Leonard Snart.

 

 William frowned, taking in this new information.  “Are they still after me?”

 

“Not those three, no.”  Oliver looked to Felicity for reassurance.  “They’re locked up somewhere safe, but…” She gave him a small nod.  “But there are some other really bad people, who may still come after you.  We’ll need you to trust us to keep you safe.”

 

Felicity gave William a reassuring one-armed hug, saying, her voice cheerful, but her eyes somber, “You have superheroes on your side now.”

 

William didn’t look too cheered.  He bit his lip and asked, “What’s going to happen to me now?”

 

Of course, he wouldn’t know.  As helpless as Oliver sometimes felt, he couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be a kid in this mess.  He just hoped William would be ok with the answer.  “You’re going to come live with me…with _us_.”  He gestured his head to Felicity who continued to smile her warm Felicity smile.

 

William, who seemed to be looking Felicity over more carefully now, asked her, “Who are you?”

 

Felicity seemed taken aback by the question and Oliver couldn’t blame her.  He was glad that one wasn’t aimed at him. 

 

“I’m...I’m Felicity.”

 

William rolled his eyes.  “I know _that_.  But—”

 

Oliver took pity on both of them.   This was important.  “She’s the woman I’m going to marry, buddy,” he told William gently, watching carefully for his response.  “Felicity lives with me.”

 

William didn’t look upset by that, thank God, just contemplative.  “She’s the woman you love?”

 

Oliver smiled.  “Very much.”

 

“So like…Felicity is you MJ Watson and my mom was like your Gwen Stacey?”

 

Wow, this kid was _obsessed_ with superheroes.   And, also, Oliver knew enough Spiderman lore to know that was a _really_ optimistic view of his drunken sexcapades with Samantha Clayton.

 

Oliver must have been quiet too long because Felicity answered for him, “Yup, just like that.”  But over his head she gave Oliver a what-the-hell-else-are-we-supposed-to-say look, that made Oliver bite his lip to keep from smiling.  It made him feel like they were a team in this.

 

William seemed happy with the answer and almost proud of himself for coming up with it.  Then he turned to Felicity and asked, “Are you going to be my stepmom?”

 

Trying to hide his grin, Oliver watched the adorableness that was a completely flustered Felicity.  This one was _all_ hers.

 

“Yeah…I guess.  It’s kinda a negative word, but technically…yes?”  Felicity babbled and William tilted his head and watched her like she was a puzzle to solve.  Good luck with _that_ , kid.  “I mean, I’d love to be your stepmom.  As long as I don’t have to start frowning all the time and acting mean and get a nasty cat.”  Felicity shuddered.  Then her eyes opened wide and she looked down at William and whispered, “Not that all cats are bad.  Do you like cats, because—?”

 

“I’m a dog person,” William reassured in all seriousness.

 

Felicity’s face brightened and Oliver thought they were the two cutest things on the planet.  “I _love_ dogs.”

 

“Mom said they were too much work,” William told her sadly.  “But I asked every year.”

 

Felicity practically squealed.  “Oh, we should totally get a dog!”

 

Whoa whoa whoa.  What the hell just happened?  Oliver watched in horror as William’s face lit up like Christmas tree.  They just got a kid, now they were getting a dog too?

 

“ _Felicity_ ,” Oliver hissed.

 

“Oliver.”  She smiled and blinked at him like she knew she was going to win.  Because now it was two against one.  Also, Oliver was still a _little bit_ in trouble for keeping secrets.  It looked as if the damnable women was cashing in.

 

“Can’t we wait until William’s settled in?” Oliver pleaded.  He was so out gunned.

 

“Of course,” Felicity agreed very reasonably.  Then she turned to William and did that little bounce thing she did when she was really excited and whispered, “We are _so_ getting a dog.”

 

Ugh.  “Fel—”

 

“No wait,” Felicity argued, frighteningly enthusiastic now.  _Crap_.  “What if we get a guard dog?  Maybe a German Shepard, like the ones they train to be police dogs.  It could be extra protection and we can train him to guard William.”

 

“That would be so _awesome_!”  William looked absolutely thrilled, gazing at Felicity like she was the smartest person in the world, which she was, of course.  And, damn her, if it wasn’t a bad idea either.

 

“Ooo… I can come up with a really great high tech collar,” Felicity continued, talking a mile a minute.  “Not as cool as the one in _UP_ , I don’t even think it’s possible to translate barks into English, because the language centers in their brains are so different, but I can totally make it a communication device and GPS and—”

 

“ _Felicity_ ,” Oliver interrupted, shaking his head.   Now she was getting a little _too_ excited.  “I think it makes more sense to put the GPS on William.”

 

William frowned. “I don’t want to be tagged like a dog.”

 

“Oh, we all have them,” Felicity reassured, still talking fast, waving off the concern with a flick her wrist.  Oliver hoped she didn’t make the boy dizzy.  “Nanotech.  Ever since Aunt Thea, Digg and I got kidnapped…doesn’t matter… but I’m also going to set you up with a really supped up Smart Watch so you can contact us at any time.”

 

William looked only _slightly_ less excited about that then he did about the prospect of a dog.  “Like an iWatch?”

 

Oliver winced, anticipating Felicity’s look of horror.  “Apple is sooo overrated.  Oh no, I’ll design you one myself.  I’m the CEO of Palmer Tech, you know?”

 

“Really?”

 

Smiling, Oliver nodded.  “It’s true.”  It was cute seeing Felicity brag after she’d spent so much time building him up for his son.   He should probably return the favor.  “She’s a Tech _Genius_.  Team Arrow couldn’t do it without her.”

 

Felicity’s beaming smile was worth his efforts and William looked suitably impressed.  “We even get to go home on my super awesome private jet,” she added.

 

“Whoa.”  William was pretty amazed.  “Where’s home?”

 

Oliver’s smile dimmed.  “Star City, William.”

 

“Is it safer there?”

 

Uh…hell no.  How the fuck was he supposed to answer that?  Christ, maybe they shouldn’t bring William home.  Maybe Oliver needed to rethink this whole—

 

“Our Loft has the best security system in the world,” Felicity answered, interrupting Oliver’s impending panic attack.  “And that’s not even counting the fact that your dad’s pretty good with this thing.”  She patted his bow, which lie on the floor next to her, and William studied it with obvious interest.

 

Oliver didn’t know how he felt about that, but now that the panic ebbed he found it easier to answer, “For a while, until we catch the…”  How to describe Damian Darhk and still let the kid sleep at night?  “…head bad guy.”  Or until Oliver managed to turn him to dust.  “We’ll make sure you’re always with a superhero to keep you safe.  If not me, then Digg—that’s Spartan, or Black Canary or Speedy.”

 

“Or you?”  William asked Felicity.

 

She smiled brightly, clearly pleased.  “Or me.”

 

Oliver wasn’t so sure about that.  He didn’t want the two of them going out alone and unprotected, but he wasn’t going to ruin the moment.  He’d had Digg or Lyla on bodyguard duty for Felicity since the Christmas shooting anyway, even after she got out of the wheelchair.

 

“What about school?” William asked.

 

Crap.  School.  Nine-year-olds went to school, didn’t they?  But Oliver couldn’t imagine a school secure enough.  “We’ll have to think about the school thing.”

 

“Really? Cool!”

 

“What your father _means_ …” Felicity shot him a disapproving look.  That’s right, she would probably be a mom who was _super_ into the school thing.  “Is that _maybe_ we can home school for the rest of the year and worry about finding you a new school in the fall.”

 

“That’s right,” Oliver quickly agreed.  That was plan he could get behind.  If they could get rid of Darhk and get Felicity to overhaul the security on Starling Prep…

 

“Oh…ok” William looked less thrilled.  Oliver sure hoped he didn’t take after his old man in the school front.

 

“And your dad can teach you self-defense,” Felicity offered, an obvious attempt at cheering him up.  Oliver wasn’t so sure about that either.   They had to get better at talking stuff through before they presented it to William.

 

Especially since his son turned to him with bright eyes and asked excitedly, “You’ll teach me how to fight like the Green Arrow?”

 

Oliver sighed.  Wonderful.  He glared at Felicity.  “ _No_.  You will not be fighting—”

 

_But_ Felicity stepped in before William’s disappointment could become too apparent.  “What your dad means is that people like you and me, we need _self-defense_ , cool ways to take the bad guys by surprise so we can escape.  Oliver taught me all kinds of stuff, saved me tons.   Once, I got Double Down in the Shin—”

 

She started off so strong.  “ _Felicity_ —”

 

“The point is—”  
  
Time to take control of this circus. “The point _is_ ,” Oliver looked warningly at Felicity, “that you are too young to fight bad guys.  I can teach you things, but only if you promise that you will only use them in self-defense.  Your job is get away, hide, and call for help.  Do you understand?”  
  
William nodded solemnly.

 

Oliver took a deep breath, worried now that he was scaring him.  Though, honestly, William _should_ be scared.  There were terrifying people out there who would kill to get their hands on either Oliver Queen _or_ the Green Arrow’s son.  “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he told him more gently.

 

Nodding again, William cautiously reached out and touched Oliver’s bow, asking hopefully, “Will you teach me to shoot?  Just at targets, I promise.”

 

For some reason that choked Oliver up more than anything else.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I can do that.”

 

William ran his finger reverently over the bow.    “When can we go home and pack my stuff?  My old home, I mean?”  Oliver exchanged a worried look with Felicity.  When no one answered, William looked up as well, a crinkle in his forehead.  “I can get my stuff, right?”

 

“No, buddy.  I don’t think that’s safe,” Oliver told him as gently as he could.

 

William’s face fell and his lip trembled, but before Oliver could panic again, Felicity chimed in, “Why don’t you make a list of all the stuff you want to take with you and we’ll send Digg—that’s the big, strong black guy.  You know, Spartan?  He’s _awesome_.  He’ll go get your stuff _no_ problem.”

 

Despite her super chirpy sell, William didn’t look too convinced.  He mumbled a tiny, sad, “Ok.”

 

“I’ll even see if Barry can help,” Felicity offered, even though it was unlikely since the speedster was having more pressing issues with Zoom.  “He’ll get it done like that.”  She snapped her fingers to demonstrate.

 

That cheered William a bit.  “The Flash?”

 

“Ummm hmm.”

 

“I can’t believe I know the Flash.  Like the real _actual_ person.”

 

Felicity nodded, grinning.  “He’s even better in person.”  She sent Oliver a mischievous look before turning back to William.  Uh oh.  “You really like the Flash, huh?”

 

William nodded shyly, casting a careful glance at Oliver.    

 

Oliver’s brat of a fiancé’ grin widened.  “We can do up your room in Flash colors if you like?  Red and Gold?”

 

Narrowing his eyes, Oliver growled, “ _Felicity_.”

 

Her delighted, musical laugh just made poor William confused, but Felicity was only too happy to explain.  “You want to know a secret, William?  Your dad and Barry have a little rivalry going on.”

 

William turned to his father.  “But I thought you two were friends?”   


“We _are_ ,” Oliver assured firmly, casting a warning glance at Felicity.

 

“They are.   Of course, they are.”  Oh great, Felicity wasn’t done.  “But you know how men get.” 

 

Poor William didn’t seem to have any idea how men _got_ and Oliver wished she’d let it stay that way.  But, _no_ …

 

“They’re always fighting about who would win in a fight.  You know what your dad manages to say to Barry pretty much every time they see each other?”

 

Oh, this was too much.  “ _Felicity_!”

 

“’Some of us don’t have super powers to fall back on,’” the brat said in that low, growly voice she used whenever she imitated him.

 

Oliver rolled his eyes, his face heating.  Didn’t Felicity understand he wanted his son to like him?  To _not_ think of him as a petty, jealous prick?

 

“Well...” William said carefully, licking his bottom lip, “it is way more impressive beating super-villains _without_ powers.”

 

“Exactly,” Oliver agreed, practically giddy at his son’s response.  “That’s my boy!”  He held up his hand without thinking and was delighted when William met him with a smiling high-five.

 

Felicity’s laugh rang out as she watched.  She sounded happy and Oliver instantly forgave her everything.

 

“I think, I should paint my room green,” William told him.  “That’s our family color, right?”

 

“It is,” Oliver agreed gruffly, reminding himself it was not manly to cry happy tears.  He’d leave that to Felicity.  He could see her eyes were shining behind her glasses.  “But I think you should paint your room whatever color _you_ want.  I want you to be comfortable there.”

 

“On that note,” Felicity pushed herself to her feet and dusted herself off, “I’ll go talk to John about getting your stuff.”  As she left, she ran a hand through Oliver’s hair.  It was completely normal and immensely comforting. 

 

Oliver smiled after her, completely amazed at her power of forgiveness.  When he turned back to his son, William was still running a finger over his bow reverently.  Oliver had to admit, it was a work of art.

 

Looking up at him shyly, William asked, “Can I…”   

 

And Oliver’s heart skipped a beat.  This must have been how his own father felt when young Ollie sat in his big chair at QC.  Of course, Oliver had shown almost no interest in the family business and William’s interest in Oliver’s might just be a little bit terrifying.

 

“Sure,” Oliver answered without thinking.  It was safe, right?  It was the arrows that were dangerous.  Except…crap!  He quickly scooped the bow out of William’s hands just as the boy was lifting it.  “Just don’t…” Leaning close to his son, Oliver showed him a series of buttons by the grip.  “See these.  If you press this one and that one at the same time it ignites the explosive arrows, so…don’t do that.” 

 

William’s mouth hung open wide and his eyes were saucers but he nodded vigorously and he took the bow that Oliver handed him with a new respect.  “Ok… _wow_.” 

 

He held the bow like it was the most amazing thing he’d ever touched, turning it over in his hands and looking at it from every angle.  Like he’d said, Oliver couldn’t blame the kid.  There was nothing else in the world like it.  A one of a kind Cisco Ramon original, with a good dose of Felicity Smoak ingenuity.

 

Finally, William held the bow up in an approximation of firing it.  Of course, he held in upside down.  “How do I…?”

 

“Here, like this.”  Oliver’s voice was rough again as he positioned his son’s small hands on his weapon, showing him how to pull back the string, then removing his larger hands to let William try on his own.

 

Biting his lip in concentration, William was able to draw the string back about half-way, which was pretty damn good.  He wouldn’t have gotten half that with a long bow.  Arm shaking, William dropped his arm.  “This is harder than it looks.”

 

Oliver smiled.  “It is,” he agreed, “but this bow is also made for me, my height and my strength.  We can have one made for you, in your size.”  For sport, of course.

 

William beamed and Oliver had to clear his throat from the sudden burn.  “Would you like me to show you how to use this one?”

 

His son nodded eagerly and Oliver showed him the proper form, carefully explaining what he was doing and how to place the imaginary arrows.  No _way_ was he taking the real ones out in the house.  Even the regular arrows were razor sharp at all times.  Oliver took pride in it.

 

Then he placed the bow back in William’s hands and carefully put his arms around the boy, wary of him potentially stiffening at the closeness, but William just leaned into him.   Oliver grinned to himself as he let his arms close around his son so they could pull the bow back together. 

 

There were few things in his life that had felt this right.

 

Almost instinctively, Oliver looked up to see Felicity in the doorway.  She was smiling a small, proud smile, tears shinning in her eyes.  She put a finger to her lips, indicating she didn’t want to interrupt their moment and walked quietly to the, now clear, table with a notebook in her hands.

 

Oliver felt a rush of love so strong, he could feel it in his bones.  “Thank you,” he mouthed and he hoped she understood the scope of everything he was grateful for.

 

Felicity just smiled and shrugged as if it was nothing, as if forgiving him and supporting him and embracing his son was just second nature for her.  Maybe it was.

 

“I imagined this,” William whispered, pulling Oliver’s attention back to his son.

 

“What’s that, buddy?”

 

William’s arms dropped from the bow and he wriggled away to look up at Oliver with a distraught expression.  “I used to imagine my dad was a superhero,” he confessed, his voice soft and rough.  “That he stayed away to protect me.  That he would come for me one day.”  


Oliver didn’t know what to say.  Emotion pulled at his chest.  “William—”

 

“But, I didn’t...” William’s voice broke in a sob.  “I didn’t want my mom to die.”  When he looked up at Oliver he was… _devastated_.  “Do you think it’s my fault?  Because I wished—?”

 

“No!  No way!”  It came out louder and harsher then Oliver intended, so he quickly modulated his voice.  “It’s not your fault.  At _all_.  Don’t you _ever_ think that!”

 

William was looking at him like he wanted to believe, but tears were making thick streaks down his face again and all Oliver could think to do was open his arms.  William launched himself into them, burying his head in Oliver’s shoulder and closing his small arms tightly around his waist.

 

It was the first time that Oliver really got to hold his son and he felt so small and fragile in his arms.  He closed his eyes and just breathed in his little boy smell.

 

It was several long minutes before Oliver could trust himself to speak.  When he could, he whispered in William’s ear, “You know, I used to blame myself whenever bad things would happen.  I always thought that it was because I did something wrong or because I wasn’t good enough or fast enough or smart enough.”

 

William’s crying quieted and Oliver could tell he was listening very carefully.

 

“It was Felicity who helped me realize that it wasn’t my fault.  That there were just bad people in the world.  Darkness.  We can fight it, but it’s not our fault that it’s there.  Do you know the best way to fight the darkness?”

 

Oliver felt rather than saw the shake of a small head against his chest.  “It’s not with bows and arrows, or guns, or even with your fists.  It’s with _light_.”  He pulled back, kissing Williams brow as he did so.  He tipped the boy’s head up and hunched over so he could meet his eyes.  “Every time we love, every time we’re _happy_ a little bit of the darkness dies.”

 

William’s lip trembled, “My mom…”

 

“Wherever your mom is, and I think she’s in a very nice place, seeing you happy gives her great peace.  She wouldn’t want you to stay sad because of her.”

 

“You think so?” William sniffed.

 

“I _know_ so,” Oliver said with conviction, because it had _better_ be true.  This boy deserved that much from his mother.

 

William swallowed.  “I want to fight the darkness.”

 

God, it was amazing how much Oliver loved this boy already.  “You can and you already do.  Because you make people happy every day.”

 

Smiling through his tears, William wiped his face with his sleeve.

 

Oliver cleared his throat.  “Now, go make Felicity happy and help her make her list,” he gestured to the table with his chin.  “She likes to be useful.”

 

He winked, making William giggle as he ran over to Felicity.  Instead of taking the seat next to her, he stood at her side, leaning into her.  Felicity wrapped an arm around his slender waist and William placed a hand on her back as they whispered together, their heads close.

 

Seeing the two people he loved most in this world, together…it was unlike anything.  The peace.  The love.  The sense of family.

 

Oliver understood his son’s guilt.  It almost felt wrong to be this happy, to get everything he wanted at the expense of Samantha’s life.  But he’d take it.  Because if there was one thing Oliver had learned, it was you need to take happiness where and when it came.  You couldn’t punish yourself.  Life punishes you enough.  And, as he told his son, the best way to fight the darkness was with the light.

 

And looking over at Felicity and William…they were his light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief disclaimer: I adore Apple products; they are my favorite. But that’s because I don’t have access to a SmoakPad or a StarkPad, because I would totally buy those. 
> 
> As with my other stories, I had ideas to continue them. ‘Cause dogs. And Smut. But for now this is complete ( _also they went and made it non-cannon on me way too early_ ). My brain took a sharp left turn a couple weeks ago. It decided it needed a break from the quagmire of Season 4 angst (as delicious as it is) and went in a very different direction for me. 
> 
> I’m currently working a long multi-chapter fic called _Another Kind of Island_. It a kind of Sci-fi, fantasy, action adventure, romance that heavily hinges on tropey smut. :D It’s like nothing I’ve ever written before, but, so far, it’s making me smile. I’m hoping it have it out early to mid-February. Until then I may write tiny manic little drabbles like _Fight for Me._
> 
> Don’t forget to comment or kudo if you liked it (or didn’t). 
> 
> Happy reading, Emmy

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don’t forget to comment and/or kudo. 
> 
> Emmy
> 
> Ps I recently joined Tumblr and I’m looking for a Beta. If anyone is interested check out the details at: http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/


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